And Then Someone Potties in the Trash Can

Yesterday started off rather decent. I decided not to workout at all, something I haven’t done in weeks. I thought my body could use the rest.

Then I had a conversation with my boss and everything went to Hell. No matter, I’m getting what I need and I’ll be able to eat in June, and that’s what matters most, right?

Of course, that’s about the time my back started to hurt. No big deal. Can’t ride out the pain, I have meds for that. They didn’t kick in, but no matter, I can take it.

Then I go outside to do the trash. It’s late, about 9:30pm. It was a warm day, getting up into the lower 90s. I get all but one. The last one. And that’s when it hits me.

The smell.

There’s a certain smell dead things have when they start to decay. It’s unlike anything else. I’ve smelled it enough in my life to recognize it, or so I thought.

Things die all the time. Maybe some customer found a dead bird or had a pet they needed to dispose of and thought my trashcan would be the best place for it. I don’t ask questions. It’s better not to know some things.

I took the cover off and grabbed hold of the bag. This is one of the few times I’ve decided not to wear gloves while changing trash. There wasn’t much of it, and what trash there was consisted of mostly paper and cardboard. Nothing too messy.

I unrolled the bag from under the rim of the trash can, and the smell started to get worse. I turned my head to the side to get a bit of fresh air, then I lifted. The trash in the bag shifted. It was heavier than I thought, about 50 pounds. I took a breath to steady myself for the long pull. And it hit me.

It was like getting smacked in the face with a Louisville Slugger by Jose Canseco.  I stumbled a bit. It wasn’t that death smell. This was something completely different. I couldn’t place it. Rather, I didn’t want to place it. My brain knew what it was, it just didn’t want to share that knowledge. I poked it, prodded it, annoyed it like a little brother. And it told me halfway through my third try.

Poop.

Someone, many hours before, had pooped in the trashcan.

And it sat there.

In the sun.

In 90+ degrees.

All.

Day.

Long.

I staggered.  Put my hands on my knees for balance. And retched.  Repeatedly.  My eyes watered. My stomach heaved, roiled, tried to boil over.

I couldn’t get away from it because my body was trying to purge itself of some horrid thing it thought was inside.  It didn’t know what was attacking it was outside. I almost had to crawl away from the vile…creation, left for me by some kind and generous soul.

Somehow, the stench has managed to permeate every fiber of my clothing, and for the last three hours of my shift, I smelled of poo that sat in the sun, through the heat of the day. My evening was not pleasant after that.

God bless you, Trash Can Pooper.

On the bright side, this is my ride:

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This is my view from the driver’s seat:

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Gotta take the good with the bad, right?

What I saw on my run today

I ran today. A lot. Two hours, actually.  All on no sleep, having worked ten hours last night, spending two hours at home, then going back to work for another ten hours, and then going for my run. I’ve eaten a cheeseburger and a bag of chips. I wonder how much better I could have done if I’d had a proper amount of sleep and nourishment?

I did see some cool things, like copious amounts of bunnies. They were cute, all running away thinking I was a predator with my slow jogging.

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And I saw this really cool flower that looks like a champagne flute, but the inside was prettier, so that’s what I stopped and took a picture of. The inside. IT’S WHAT’S INSIDE THAT COUNTS THE MOST, PEOPLE!!!

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And then I saw another bunny. Actually, I saw a lot of bunnies, but I only got pictures of two.

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All in all, it was a great workout. I can’t wait for my next one.

Cheers!

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Everyday I’m shufflin’.

You

I hadn’t thought about you in a while, and then I saw her. She was just some random jogger in the park, but she looked like you. I almost called out, to apologize, to yell at you, to tell you how I feel, that I’m better, that I understand, that I hate you and still love you. Then I realized it wasn’t you.

I went to the grocery store and missed your reassuring touch. Standing there in a sea of people, no one noticing anyone else, everyone only caring about themselves. I couldn’t handle it. It was those times you’d just put your hand in mine. Sometimes you’d have to lean into my ear and whisper, “its ok.” You always knew. Whatever I needed, you could give me without even having to think about it.

I made it through the store. Alone. Without you. The way I’ve done it for years. Home is the same. Not much has changed since you’ve been gone. Everything.has changed since you’ve been gone.

And then I remembered. I remembered how you could take everything from me without even trying. I remembered how you could twist me up inside, break me, shatter my very sense of self.

You were my best friend. You were the one person I wish I’d never met.

Be gentle, please

It’s been quite a while wince I’ve written a poem. No, you’re not going to get the story behind this. And if you think it’s about you, you’re probably wrong…unless, of course, you’re the person this is about…

I felt my heart begin to freeze
When she brought down upon my knees
The Queen of Scots knows my pain
Wishing for a guillotine
One blow, two, then finally three
She brought me down upon my knees

When I first saw you, you were spring
The permafrost began to thaw
And now my heart can glow and sing
Without fear of her frozen maw

It wasn’t once, or twice, nor thrice
Five times my heart’s been encased in ice
I’d built a fort, big walls, a moat
All to keep those traitors out
And as my heart began to freeze
I fell again upon my knees

And then I saw you, wondrous spring
And the permafrost began to thaw
My broken heart can dance and sing
Escaping hates cold, frozen maw